Not To Be Taken With Alcohol - The Cure Series
by lwbush
Summary: Buffy has one too many as the situation reaches crisis point.


Not To Be Taken With Alcohol

Not To Be Taken With Alcohol

The Cure Series, #7

By Lori Bush

~**~

Feedback: lwbush@charter.net 

  
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, etc. owns Buffy. You know the routine.

  
Summary: Buffy has one too many when the situation reaches crisis point. 

Pairing: B/X angst

  
Rating: R

  
Author's notes: My deepest apologies to all those who were looking for sex in this particular story – there ain't any, although it is briefly discussed. There's a good reason for that – this leads into the last story, and was absolutely needed to set it up. As C-Man points out, I've made Willow a bit of the emotional bad guy in these stories, but I really do believe she's pulled away from the other two a lot in the past season, and I want to see her care again the way she used to.

The entire series owes a debt to Shawn (Ozmandayus), who has used a similar concept in a different way, and a J/G writer named Xebbie, who wrote a series called "Pillow Talk" that sort of inspired this.

~**~

Dawn flounced in the front door, dropped her book bag in the entry and landed heavily on the sofa next to Xander, who was watching MTV and singing along.

She looked from her sister's bedmate to the screen and back again. "Never figured you for liking Destiny's Child," she said thoughtfully.

"Three beautiful women scantily dressed and singing about booty? What's not to like? Oh, be careful, there's a crack in that…" The warning was moments too late, as Dawn picked up the already compromised glass and it shattered in her hand.

"Owww. Xander, that – oh, shit. Xander! My hand!" He'd have chastised her for her language, but he was too busy staring in horror at the blood pouring from the wound in her palm. "XANDER!"

Her last cry pulled him from his stupor and tossed him to his feet. "Hospital. Gotta get you to the hospital." He ran into the kitchen, coming out with a tea towel. "Here, wrap it carefully, there could still be some glass in there. I'll call Buffy from the hospital. Let's go!" He slipped on his shoes and grabbed his car keys from the entry table, ushering her out the door and to his car.

A few hours later, the Slayer sat forlornly at the Bronze, sipping on her margarita. Her _fourth_ margarita. She was showing distinct signs of drunkenness, and the evening was still young. Willow was concerned. The best she could tell, Buffy was depressed, and it had something to do with Xander, but so far, that was all she'd been able to get from her. Although now that the other girl had imbibed as much as she had, there was a chance she might be able to find out more.

What the witch did know for certain was that Buffy had come to the Magic Box early that day to help Willow and Tara with inventory. It had been set up for weeks, and the Slayer had requested and been granted a vacation day from work for this purpose. Willow also knew that Xander had been off work most of the week with a mysterious back ailment he'd blamed on a recent demon hunting expedition. He'd even given her the name of the demons (K'hoth – who the hell names these things, anyway?), and she'd looked them up in one of Giles' old books, just to be sure. They existed, which she was pretty sure they would, and fit the description he'd given her, as well. There was just something about his voice when he told her how he'd hurt himself that didn't ring true to the witch.

Late in the afternoon, Buffy had called the house to see if Xander would join them at the Bronze later, and gotten only the answering machine, which troubled her. Apparently, he had been on medicine all week that had prevented him from driving, and he'd promised the Slayer he wouldn't take his car anywhere without her express permission, since she was concerned about the medication's effects. Buffy had told Willow it made him "goofy," in response to which Willow asked, "How can you tell?" Anyway, Buffy was upset he was gone, even though he'd been planning to try the day without the pain pills, the last she'd known.

She'd tried the house again before they left for the club, Tara remaining at the store to finish up some paperwork and planning to meet them later, but he still wasn't answering. Buffy left a message, and headed out with the redheaded witch, but the Slayer had grown steadily more morose as they'd gotten closer to the Bronze. When she ordered a margarita instead of her usual Diet Coke, Willow took notice. But Buffy's lips had been sealed tighter than a drum, and the redhead was clueless about what had upset her friend so much.

The Slayer had held it all in all week. She'd promised herself that, as badly as she wanted to confess all to Xander, it would be best done when he was in possession of his entire faculties, and not under the influence of some mind-altering drug. He'd announced yesterday he was going to try to go without the pain pills today – he'd been feeling much better. And once she ascertained he was indeed medicine-free, Buffy was planning to lay it all on the line with him.

What better day to tell him she loved him than today, the one year anniversary of the first time they slept together? For once, the Fates seemed to have arranged things in her favor. She should have known better. The Fates seemed to have set up an entire wing of their operation that existed solely to fuck up Buffy Summers' life. Particularly her love life.

Xander was gone. Missing. Not answering the phone, and hadn't called her. Bad enough he'd missed their anniversary – it might not have been as memorable a day to him, after all. But in the last year plus, since he'd moved into her house, he'd never been irresponsible enough to go off and not let her know where he was going. Why did he have to choose this highly significant day to be a jerk-off? Or worse yet, to decide he didn't want to be around anymore at all. Her worry and concern slowly slid into a depressed funk, and she decided that drowning her sorrows was the way to go. Hence the large amounts of tequila she'd ingested so far this evening.

And then there was Willow. "Willow!" the Slayer greeted her friend loosely. "Have a drink with me."

"Uh, Buffy? You seem to have had enough."

"Enough? I don' think so. It's my anniversary, and I'm drinking alone. Not right. Need to drink with you, since _he's_ not here." The blonde signaled the waiter and pointed to her nearly empty glass, then Willow, and held up her fingers to indicate "Two." He nodded and scurried off to the bar.

Willow searched her mental files. _Anniversary?_ Had anything significant happened on this date in Buffy History with Angel? Riley? Had she died on this date, either time? The Slayer mentioned a "he," which slightly narrowed the choices, but not by a lot. The waiter brought their drinks. "Thanksh," Buffy grinned, slurring only slightly. Willow eyed her critically.

"Buffy, whatever it is, it's not worth getting drunk over, I'm sure."

"Oh, but it is," she nodded seriously. "I waited too long, and he's gone. Never tol' him how I feel. It was bound to happen." She looked at Willow with wide eyes. "Alwaysh happens. That'sh why it was only gonna be sex. But I couldn't help myself, and now he'sh gone."

The music was loud tonight, and Buffy's diction was deteriorating. But Willow could have sworn she heard her friend mention "sex." _That_ limited the selection of things that could be upsetting her even more. Willow scrambled to put two and two together, and wasn't liking the numbers she was coming up with. Buffy was fine until she'd called home. Xander wasn't home, and was somehow involved in whatever was bothering her. She was drinking herself blind over a _guy_, and they'd had sex. _Oh, God and Goddess, Xander, what have you done this time?_

_ _

Meanwhile, totally unaware of what was going on across town, Xander was tucking Dawn into her bed, the pain medication having sent her gently to dreamland. The hours after she'd cut herself had been a blur. He got her right to Sunnydale General, where they'd made them wait behind the usual number of emergency room customers, always a higher number in Sunnydale than anywhere else. Xander realized he didn't have Dawn's insurance information, but after talking to roughly half the administration of the hospital, they'd agreed he could just leave her there and go get it and come back. Due to her being a minor not under his legal guardianship to begin with, getting this permission was the equivalent of obtaining an Act of Congress. But he wasn't leaving until they'd at least looked at Dawn's hand, which they finally got around to, discovering when they did that she'd nicked a major artery, and was on the verge of critical blood loss. Xander hadn't even realized he _knew_ some of the names he called those people. They had her hooked up to a transfusion in mere minutes, and then they stitched up her hand. Finally, he left and went back to the house, found the insurance card in seconds, and raced back to the hospital. Presenting the info and signing all the papers seemed to take forever, but finally they deemed Dawn able to leave, gave him a prescription, and sent them on their way. 

He'd started trying to call Buffy when he was home getting the card, but she wasn't answering her cell phone. He'd tried again from the pay phone at the hospital. He couldn't find his own cell, which he lost fairly regularly, frequently because Dawn "borrowed" it and took it to school with her. It was probably still in her backpack, he thought. So he tried again from the payphone outside the pharmacy, but still no answer from the Slayer. He picked up the prescription ("Look, Dawn, it's the same painkiller I was on.Matching his-and-her pain medication – how Hellmouth-y." The girl had smiled wanly, the evening having taken pretty much all the starch out of her already.) He'd insisted she take her first pill at the water fountain in the drug store, and that, combined with the exhaustion and the medicine they'd used to numb the pain when they stitched her up all but guaranteed she'd be asleep by the time they reached the house, which she was. He carried her gently upstairs, taking only her shoes off before tucking her into bed. Her clothes were stained and bloody, but he didn't want to embarrass her by being the one who removed them. He'd get Buffy to do it if he ever tracked her down.

Trying her cell number once again after he'd changed into clean clothes himself, he finally gave up and decided to go looking for her. From personal experience, he knew Dawn wouldn't wake up for quite a while with that medication in her system, so he wasn't too concerned about leaving her alone right now. Xander grabbed his car keys and headed back out the door.

He tried the Magic Box first, but only Tara was there. She told him Willow and Buffy had headed to the Bronze, and she was done for the evening, could she catch a ride over with him? At least she'd saved him from having to check every cemetery in Sunnydale – that would have taken a lot of time. They'd chattered inanely on the way, after he told her about the accident and what he'd been doing most of the evening. Tara apologized about the fact she and Willow had been nearly strangers to Xander and Buffy lately, but going to school and running the Magic Box at the same time had strained them somewhat. They'd kept up mostly through visits with Dawn. He waved it off, assuring her that Buffy knew they were busy, and he did too, and the Slayer appreciated the fact that Willow still tried to patrol with her when she could. It was a nice friendly not-too-deep conversation, and he felt better by the time they reached the club.

It didn't last long. Willow spotted him coming in with her lover, and excused herself from the barely aware Buffy to go over and greet them.

"Hi, honey," Tara said in her appealingly shy way.

"Hey Wills, where's Buffy?"

Snapping green eyes were his first clue something was wrong here. The redhead gestured emphatically. "She's over there, about five margaritas into the trip to Neverland. She's upset, it's all about you, and please tell me she didn't just say you two had _sex,"_ Willow ranted.

Xander considered lying, but if Buffy had said something, it probably wasn't worth the effort. "Yeah, Wills, we did. What is she upset about?" His voice was subdued. As if this evening hadn't been bad enough so far.

Willow's eyes flashed black for a moment. "I'd guess she's upset because a guy she considered one of her best friends, one who she _trusted, _took advantage of her when she was weak. Just couldn't keep it in your pants, could you? Look, Xander, I know you and I know you never meant to hurt Buffy, but…"

His eyes were as black as Willow's for a moment when he cut her off. "No you don't," he said forcefully. "You don't know me, and you don't know Buffy anymore, either. I would never hurt her. She's probably upset because she's sensing that something happened to Dawn, since I did just get back from taking her to the Emergency Room." He saw Willow's shocked expression, and as her mouth opened, he cut her off. "She's fine now – just a few stitches. As for sex with Buffy, well, it was her idea. I would never have done it otherwise, and I think it's made our friendship stronger." He glared at her, daring her to speak, but then Buffy joined them.

"Sxander," she slurred, "Where have you been?" She put her hand on his chest, and he realized she'd shifted so he was supporting much of her weight now.

"Dawn had a little accident, Buff." Her eyes flew open in fear. "It's okay, she's okay. She cut her hand, but we got it all fixed up. She's home asleep now. I tried to call, but you weren't answering your phone."

Buffy stood back upright, and rummaged through her bag for the cell. "There it is," she said in surprise, "Four calls mished. It was sho loud in here…" She fell against Xander's chest, and he held her gently. "I thought you'd forgotten, thought you'd left." She looked up into his face earnestly. "Ish been a year tonight, you know."

His face was blank for a second, then understanding showed in his eyes. "I thought about it earlier, but with everything with Dawn, I'd forgotten. I didn't think you'd remember." He looked pleased for a minute, but then he noticed Willow staring at them, and he frowned. Buffy was still draped across Xander as he held her, and he figured she needed to go, now. "C'mon baby, we need to get you home." Shooting one last dirty look at the redheaded witch, he guided the barely ambulatory Slayer out the door.

Silence hung between the two witches for a few moments, almost carving itself out a distinct space in the noise around them. Tara broke it first. "So they finally slept together. Good."

"Good? GOOD?" Willow was sputtering at her lover. "How can that be good?"

"They've been in love with each other forever." Willow just stared at the other girl in blank disbelief. Tara raised a brow. "C'mon, honey, you had to have seen it. It's obvious every time they're together in the shop. The way they look at each other, the way they touch. The way Buffy lights up when Xander walks in the room. When she insults him, she always follows it with a tender glance so he knows it's all in fun." She was looking for recognition on the redhead's face and not seeing it. "You really didn't know?"

"No." Willow's tone grew defensive. "I mean, when we were in high school, Xander asked Buffy out and she told him she didn't feel that way about him, and I just never…"

"Sweetie, high school was a long time ago. Things change. People change. Circumstances change. When you were in high school, you liked _boys_."

Yeah, one particular boy. That one. That boy who had grown into a man, without her noticing, and apparently stolen the heart of her other best friend while Willow was busy living her own life. She saw it now. 

She'd always known Xander loved Buffy. It was as much a part of life as breathing and eating, and even when he'd been planning to marry Anya, Willow knew that love for Buffy still lived in his heart somewhere. That was no shock. It had nearly killed him when she'd died. But she could see the signs, now that she was looking for them, that Buffy loved Xander, too. And she'd just dismissed that entire loving relationship with harsh words, because she hadn't been paying attention lately to two of the three people who meant the most to her in the world. She met her girlfriend's eyes with a look of distress. "I owe them both a big apology."

Tara put her arm around the smaller girl, pulling her to her chest and patting her back. "Yes, you do, but I think you'll need to wait until morning. Buffy's about had it tonight."

Willow snuggled into the hug, near tears now. "Baby? Let's go home."

~**~

Buffy was singing along with the car radio, loudly and off-key. She stopped suddenly and scrunched up her nose. "This car shmells like sex," she announced.

"Yeah, well, good reason," Xander answered. His mood had been growing darker by the minute since they'd left the Bronze. "It's been closed up all week since we did it in here." He'd begun the trip angry at Willow for assuming so much, and so wrongly. But now he was beginning to see what he'd tried to ignore, and he supposed he had his former best friend to thank for it. He _couldn't_ keep it in his pants, as Willow had so eloquently put it. Not as long as Buffy was around. And he _had_ violated her trust in her moment of weakness. Now she'd grown used to him, trusting him not to love her but just to be there for her, and he'd failed. Tonight he hadn't been there for her. Although the situation with Dawn was a mitigating factor, still, the fact she'd gotten drunk meant she thought he'd failed her, too. She'd expected him to fail her, maybe.

"I like the shmell," she announced, interrupting his stream of thought. "I like the shex," she giggled. Her expression grew sloppily sincere. "I like you," she told him seriously. She shook her head, confused. "Wai' a minute," she slurred, "I din' meanta say that. Wha'd I mean ta say, Sxander?" Buffy's last margarita had been the proverbial "one too many" and her last few shreds of sobriety had just gone under for the third time in a sea of tequila, not to resurface. Somewhere in her addled head floated the thought that "like" wasn't the right word, not strong enough, but she couldn't lasso the idea and bring it into play.

"Probably that you hate me," Xander muttered, although he knew in his heart that wasn't the case. She probably should hate him, but she didn't. She probably felt a great deal of affection for him, if he was reading things right. But just like he couldn't be there, he also couldn't _not_ love her, and so he'd finally broken both parts of the deal. And certainly she didn't love him the same way. 

He needed to think; he needed time to work it all out. "We're home," he announced loudly as they pulled up in the driveway, startling her from the zoned state she'd fallen into. "Let me help you out," he insisted, and she didn't seem to be in any hurry to get out on her own anyway. Gently he led her up onto the porch, and she draped herself over him as he unlocked the door.

"Alwaysh a gennelman," she complimented, and it made him feel a bit more like pond scum, since he knew gentlemen didn't sleep with ladies who didn't love them, no matter how much they might want to. He guided her inside, closed the door then wrangled her up the stairs and into their room. 

Gently, like he would a child, he undressed her, touching her reverently as he did. He wasn't sure if this would be his last view of her skin, of the parts that had been just his, no matter how wrongly, for the past year. He pulled a sleep shirt over her head and tucked her into bed, and she grinned up at him, but before she could say anything, her eyes drifted closed and her breathing became steady. It was just as well – if she'd been up to asking him to have sex, he probably would have acquiesced, and hated himself even more for it afterwards.

He went in the big closet – their closet – and found a duffle bag. He had to go away, but he couldn't take everything with him. He might even examine his feelings and wind up coming back, although right now, his mood at its bleakest, he thought that unlikely. But he'd come back sometime and get the rest of his stuff, or send for it if need be. Right now he just needed a few supplies. Shirts, shoes, socks and underwear – just the basics. He went into the bathroom and threw his toothbrush into the bag, and his deodorant. He touched the razor, then smiled sadly and set it back on the counter.

The last thing he needed to take care of, now, was a note. He couldn't just leave with no word – it wouldn't be fair to either of the girls. His girls. Or maybe not, anymore.

~**~

Dawn woke up with a medicine-y kind of hangover and wearing clothing stiff with blood. The doorbell was chiming insistently, and apparently neither Buffy nor Xander were going to get it. She dragged herself out of bed, the throbbing in her hand instantly bringing back a review of the previous night's events. _Answer door, then locate pain medicine._

"Just a second, I'm coming," she shouted down the stairs at the pushy visitor. She threw the door open to find a frantic Willow and her lover outside.

"Dawn! I was worried that…" she paused taking in the teenagers knotted hair and blood-stained clothing. "Man, you look like hell," Willow commented.

"Good to see you, too, Willow," Dawn responded sardonically, "Come on in." She stepped aside and the two witches entered, Willow growing nervous again.

"I, ah, had a little misunderstanding with your sister and Xander last night, and I owe them both an apology. I don't suppose either of them are around right now?" Willow was wringing her hands as she spoke, and Tara moved in and began rubbing comforting little circles on her back.

"Well, I'm assuming since Xander didn't answer the door, he isn't up yet, although he's usually the first one awake, even on weekends. I just got up myself." The teenager looked sharply at the redhead, leaving no doubt who'd awakened her. The witch had the grace to look sheepish. Dawn headed up the stairs, turning a few steps up. "C'mon, we might as well see."

The two witches followed Dawn to the end of the hall, where she knocked on the closed door. "Buffy? Xander? You guys have company." When no one answered, she pushed the door open and went in. "You okay in here?" she asked, worried by the lack of response.

Buffy opened her eyes and the light assaulted them. She groaned and closed them again, but it was too late. The pain from her eyes woke her stomach, which immediately declared that any and all contents remaining within its boundaries were to be evacuated. She flew out of bed and into the bathroom, and the three other girls heard the unappealing sounds of what came naturally the morning after too much tequila. The toilet flushed, the water ran, and a red-eyed Slayer emerged, looking bedraggled. "That was fun," she said flatly. "Never again." She flopped down onto the bed, finally noticing her audience. She looked around a little more. "Where's Xander?"

"He… he sleeps in here? Like, all the time?" Willow was becoming painfully aware of how little she knew anymore about her two best friends and their relationship.

"For the last few months, yeah. Dawn, would you see if he's downstairs or in his old room?" Buffy felt horrible, and there was only one person she was sure could make her feel even the littlest bit well. The sooner he got here, the better.

"If he'd been downstairs, he'd have answered the door. I'll check his room." Before she made it out the door, Tara's soft voice stopped her.

"What's this?" She turned holding a note she'd found on the dresser, propped against a bottle of aspirin. It was a folded piece of notebook paper, and on the front it read "Buffy," in Xander's distinctive scrawl.

In spite of her condition, the Slayer bolted from the bed, snatching the paper and opening it. She read for a few moments, then began to cry. "Too late. I waited until it was too late. Why do I screw it up every time?" She crumpled back onto the bed, burying her head in the pillow and bawling her eyes out. Tara picked up the note, which Buffy had dropped on the floor, and began to read it aloud.

"Dear Buffy,

First off, I want to tell you how sorry I am that I let you down. I never wanted to hurt you, but I suppose this will. Once I explain, though, I know you'll see it's for the best that I leave for a while, maybe for good.

A year ago, you made it clear that you didn't want anyone to love you, you just needed someone to be there, and I took that on as my challenge. I was there, every time you needed me to be. And to be fair, you were there for me, too. But I never was able to keep the whole agreement. You see, I love you, Buffy. I loved you then, and I love you even more now. It's not what you wanted, but there's nothing I can do about it. I'm sorry. I don't want you to feel bad that you can't feel the same way – I've always known you couldn't. It's okay. I just can't keep lying to you any longer.

I'm not sure where I'm going yet. I'll send for the rest of my things when I figure it out. I don't have to tell you to take good care of Dawn, because you already do. But do tell her how much I love her.

I'll send some money to take care of my part of the mortgage soon. We can work something out there; I don't want you to have to struggle to keep the house.

I still want to be your friend, but that would probably be a bit uncomfortable for both of us right now. I'll call sometime, and we can talk. Just not real soon.

Love, 

Xander"

The other three girls were crying by this point. Willow felt lower than she ever thought it possible for a human to feel. Dawn just wanted Xander back – if he wouldn't come back for Buffy, maybe he would for her. And Tara was just so sensitive to all the pain around her, she let some tears fall in sympathy. But Buffy had pulled herself together, and was digging in her drawers for clothes.

"What are you doing?" Willow sniffled.

"Finding him," Buffy ground out. "He can't go far – he still has to work on Monday. He's probably somewhere in Sunnydale, and I'm good at finding people, or non-people, in this town. I'll find him, and tell him what I've been pussyfooting around for weeks. He still may not come back to me, but he's not going away without knowing how much I love him. He was the one that gave me that advice before Riley left, and I didn't feel nearly as strongly about Riley as I do about Xander." Suddenly, just as she finished dressing, Buffy grew pale and sat down hard on the bed. "Not – feeling so good, though."

"Nasty hangover," Tara supplied. "Here." She handed the bottle of aspirin to the slightly green blonde. "Won't your Slayer healing help?"

Buffy took two of the tablets with the water from the glass beside her bed. "Not soon enough," she swore.

~**~

Buffy and Willow headed out in the witches' Volkswagen. Dawn had to be convinced to take her pain medication and stay home. Buffy pointed out to her sister that she really needed a bath anyway, and besides, Xander would be pissed if she was with them when they found him, since he knew she should be home healing. Tara volunteered to stay and take care of Dawn, and also to field any calls that might come in, especially from Xander. Buffy checked her cell phone – on and fully charged. They were heading east right that moment.

"Willow, where are you going?" Buffy asked, since they hadn't discussed a destination before the redhead had backed quickly out of the driveway and taken off.

"He always goes to the park when he's upset," she said with certainty.

"He hasn't gone there since before I died," Buffy responded gently. "He said it reminded him too much of the cemeteries and the vampires, and that wasn't the slightest bit comforting. Turn around, okay?"

The witch thought about protesting, but realized once more how little she knew anymore about the man who had once been her other half. "Okay." She pulled a u-ie and headed directly west. "Where should we look for him?" she asked humbly after they'd gone a few miles.

"He's probably at the beach," the Slayer said confidently. "He goes there a lot. Especially at this time of year, when nobody else is around – he says he likes the quiet." Buffy smiled a secret smile, remembering her lover sharing this tidbit with her in an intimate moment. Her expression hardened – she'd find him, and they'd have more of those moments, soon. 

They drove on for a while in silence. Willow was sad and guilty, Buffy, grim and determined. "Here," the Slayer pointed. "I think that's where he'll be."

She saw his car first. Buffy wondered if that was where he'd spent the night, and knowing him, she figured it probably was. She also knew he was, on the whole, an early riser, and she wondered why he was still here. "Drop me here, Willow."

The witch pulled into a parking spot and turned her car off. "NO," Buffy exclaimed at that action. "You go home now. Tell Tara and Dawn we found him." There was a brief stare down. "Willow. Go. Please."

A moment's hesitation followed, but Willow knew that whoever these two people were, they knew each other far better than she knew either of them anymore. "I'll be at your house with Tara. Tell him I'm sorry." She looked at her friend hopefully. "You're sure he's here? You're sure you won't need me to take you home?"

"I'm sure, Willow. I'm not leaving without him. Go. We'll talk soon." Reluctantly, the witch turned the ignition on the VW. "Buffy?" she called out the window as her friend turned to go. The Slayer turned back around. "Tell him I want to get to know him again. The same goes for you."

The blonde girl smiled a little. "I think you'll like him, Wills. I sure do." She spun around again, and soon vanished behind a dune.

The redhead sat for a few moments collecting her thoughts. She started to lose Xander, _her_ Xander, long before any of this happened. It was before Buffy died, before Glory, even before Anya latched onto him. When he went on his trip to discover America, Willow mentally said goodbye, and she wasn't sure now if she'd ever, in her mind, welcomed him back. It was time – way past time. And from what she'd seen the past couple of days, it would be a whole new friend in a familiar looking package that she'd be receiving.

She sighed and pulled out of the parking lot, heading back for town.

~**~


End file.
